Carry This Picture
by The Technicolor Icecube
Summary: Various short stories about the family of France, England, Canada, and America. Quite possibly the craziest family ever. 03. Midnight Delight- Alfred and Matthew discover that insomnia can bring brothers closer together. WAY closer. Poor Arthur. Rated T!
1. Pillow Fights and Late Nights

Welcome! ( 'o' ) I've always wanted to write for Hetalia, so, well… here I am! Please give constructive criticism, as I am a new writer. All comments are appreciated!

This will become a multi-chapter fic, as promised. Just me drabbling (Yay poetic license!) about my favorite family in the APH world. Rating may go up depending on the content of some chapters. This one, like some others that will appear, is more geared towards a 'real-world' AU, where it's not really stressed that they're nations and human names are used. Please forgive me if it gets a bit tl;dr, but I love little cute moments and bonding time.

And in case it wasn't obvious…

Alfred/America = older brother

Matthew/Canada = younger brother

Francis/France = father (papa)

Arthur/UK/England = father (dad)

(IF THEY ARE YOUR OTP, HIT THAT GREEN BUTTON AND SHOW LOVE DAMMIT. KTHNXBAI *u*)

Disclaimer: *checks pockets* Just lint. T_T

Ages for this chapter:

Matthew: 15

Alfred: 16

Francis and Arthur: mid-thirties

I'll shut up now. .-.

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Pillow Fights and Late Nights

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Matthew Williams slumped slowly against the cool wood of his desk, breathing a sigh of relief as his tense shoulders began to decompress at the prospect of relaxation. Clearing all of the schoolwork he had completed off of the smooth oak, he wearily placed all his books on the floor next to his bed and slowly crawled in, too exhausted to remove his glasses. Though the clock by his bedside indicated it was only 9:30, the small Canadian felt as if it were 2 A.M. already.

Ah, the pillows felt so soft, the blankets ever so warm… Matthew dimly felt himself drifting off as he snuggled even deeper into his mattress, clutching his white duvet and equally white pet bear to his chest. He would get a wonderful night's rest tonight, right?

Wrong.

As the small blonde's eyes were just fluttering shut, and he had had his last thought of the night, a sound not unlike a small bomb blasted from the living room, followed by several yells and curses.

Screaming loudly and tumbling rather gracelessly out of his bed, Matthew clutched his polar bear (who he had dubbed Kumajiro) to his stomach, trembling in fright. Wondering what in the world had happened, he decided to bravely venture downstairs, grabbing a flashlight as he went.

With trepidation, the boy inched his way to the living room, more than hesitant about going at all and seriously considering just running out the back door. He eventually reached the end of the stairs, and cautiously peeked around the bend.

However, all Matthew saw was his brother Alfred, sitting on the couch as if he hadn't even heard the blast. The older of the two was popping a rather large bubble of grape gum and holding a videogame controller in his hands, rather absorbed in whatever it was he was playing. Matthew, confused beyond words, stepped fully into the doorway and addressed his twin.

"Al, didn't you hear that?" "Hm?" The rather eloquent response on Alfred's part, punctuated halfway by the snapping of said gum. The smaller brother, rolling his eyes at the action, said softly, "That noise, Al. It s-scared me…"

Pausing the console, Alfred set down the controller and said, "That was me, sorry for the scare, bro." He smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck, motioning with the other hand for Matthew to sit on the sofa with him.

The other did just that, the soft blue cushion giving away underneath him. Kumajiro wiggled out of his arms and sniffed Alfred with interest, playfully nipping the blonde on his rather well-defined arm. He laughed.

Matthew said, "Hey, none of that, Kuma…" He scooped up the protesting bear, ruffling the soft fur between his fingers. A comfortable silence passed between the pair before Alfred said, "Modern Warfare 2."

"Eh?" Alfred chuckled a bit at Matthew's confused face, finding it precious. "That's the game I was playing, dork." The Canadian pouted even more at that last word, flicking his twin on the head. "OW!"

Alfred winced at the sudden assault, crying out a bit and rubbing a now-bright red spot on his head. Cracking one eye open to see his younger brother giggling in amusement, he mumbled, "Oh, you are _so_ dead, dude."

And with that, he grabbed a large accent pillow and hit Matthew square in the face with it.

A resonant whack echoed through the room as feathers filled the air and the Canadian just sat there, stunned. There was yet another silence, this one significantly more deadly, before Matthew coughed. He sputtered out, "I-I think I swallowed a feather."

Alfred laughed, not realizing his mistake. As his eyes were closed in mirth, Matthew gave an evil grin and grabbed the pillow, choosing instead to hit the taller boy soundly on the back of the head.

The two then grappled violently over the soft object, Matthew finally forgetting his exhaustion in favor of adrenaline. Eventually relenting (because _damn_, Matthew's nails were sharp), Alfred ran up the stairs, his brother screaming, "Coward!" and trailing shortly behind.

The older twin raced into his room, barely having time to grab a pillow from his bed as Matthew swung the blue one dangerously close to his face. As soon as he held the green plushie of Gir in his grasp, he felt empowered already. Smiling wickedly, he dove into the fight.

--

Downstairs, Arthur Kirkland was humming a tune to himself and adding chili powder to a rather virulent-looking mixture bubbling on a burner. _"Bringing in a new sound… Please make it in, oh please make it in… All I have been missing…"_ He trailed off at the loud shrieks and giggles coming from above, accompanied by several whacks and thuds.

He just sighed and continued to stir. The sludge gurgled.

--

Francis Bonnefoy wondered idly who would top.

--

At 10:30, the fight was still escalating, and the brothers had taken it outside (quite literally). They were now rolling around on the manicured lawn of their backyard, both rather dirt and grass-stained.

Matthew cried out as his back hit a sprinkler head roughly. Alfred paused, glancing at his brother in concern. Hesitating slightly, the older of the two inquired, "Matt? You okay?" When said Canadian whimpered in response and curled inwardly, Alfred worriedly set his pillow down and kneeled over him.

Only to receive a pillow to the nose.

"You little _brat_!" Matthew screeched and laughed, desperately trying to pry away the fingers curled around his wrist. "Hey! I'm injured!" Alfred looked confused, then skeptical. "Are you?"

The small blonde stuck out his tongue, scrunching up his nose cutely. "Maybe…~" Alfred groaned. "Mean little turd… I'm telling Papa!" "Telling him what, that you gave me a bruise when you punched me in the back?" "_BITCH_."

They sobered soon after, Alfred helping his brother to his feet, as his back was (actually) rather sore. Matthew blushed at the attention as Alfred asked, "Your back alright? I'll get you ice, let me know if it swells or changes color, o-okay?" The Canadian giggled and just hugged his brother, Gir pillow and all.

"Thank you. That was… an experience." Alfred struck a hero pose, grinning at the expression of gratitude. "But of course, a hero always makes a day more awesome!" Matthew just nodded, feeling fatigue creep up on him again.

The other blonde sensed his exhaustion and used his football-season strength to his advantage, scooping Matthew up into his arms as effortlessly as he had the pillow. The Canadian tensed at this, but relaxed again when Alfred whispered, "I've got you. Sleep."

And he did, head lolling back as blonde waves fanned out on his savior's arm. Alfred smiled softly as Matthew snored quietly, creeping subtly back into the house and shutting the door with a click. He slid off his Converse in favor of a quieter journey in his socks.

Arthur turned when he heard light footsteps heading toward the stairs. "Alfred, have you seen my…" He cut himself off when Alfred put a finger to his lips, the hand only making it about halfway due to Matthew sleeping in his arms. Giving a knowing smile, he whispered, "Don't let him catch a cold."

Francis, seeing the twins as well, padded over to Alfred's side and gave them both light pecks on the forehead, Alfred rolling his eyes at the gesture. "Goodnight papa, dad."

Nodding to the two respectively, he headed up the wooden stairs slowly, careful to not slip on the varnished surface. Alfred made it successfully to Matthew's room and set the other down on the bed lightly, pulling a blanket over him. He walked slowly towards the open door, but paused as he reached the threshold. Turning around, he whispered to the sleeping boy, "_Je taime, frère_." He took his leave.

Matthew cracked a little smile.

--

I should have put a cavity warning… Ah wells. Like it? Hate it? Want incest? I WON'T KNOW UNLESS YOU REVIEW. And as just a reminder, all the stories/drabbles will be unconnected, so don't expect the same universe next chapter (which might even be up tonight!). COMMENT IF THE LINE IN FRANCIS' POV JUST FLOORED YOU. FRSRS.

If anyone can guess what song Arthur was sing-humming while working on the meal of doom, review! If you're right, you get a character/pairing oneshot of your choosing!~

Sorry about the uber-long intro note, but it had to be said…

And all story-watchers get Matthew plushies! 'Kay, not really. And definitely not my Plithuania! -hugs actual plush Liet doll her beautiful friend got her for her birthday *u*-

DO IT NOW.

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	2. It's A Matter Of Taste

Thank all of you so much for your positive response to Chapter 1! And congratulations to Tootsieroll90,who guessed the song that England was singing. It was Beautiful by Athlete (a really amazing British band). PM me with the character/pairing of your choice! So on with the story! Just as a sidenote, I might be starting a multi-chapter fanfic after the obligatory oneshot for Tr90, so updates on this little story dump might be a bit slower.

I UNDERSTAND YEWS WANT INCEST. I WILL MAKE THIS HAPPEN. :DDD

Ages:

About the same as the manga, Al and Mattie are about 19/20, Francis and Art are mid/late twenties, maybe 26?

On with the story, then!~

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It's A Matter Of Taste

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It appeared to be a perfectly normal morning. The sun was shining cheerfully, birds were chirping, and the warm June air was blowing pleasantly outside the Bonnefoy-Kirkland residence.

It was truly a shame that Francis would probably perish before noon.

Said blonde Frenchman was cowering behind a rather large desk in Arthur's study, praying to God that he wouldn't be found until lunchtime. It seemed, however, that even on this fine morning, the fates did not smile upon him. What a pity.

With a great bang, the door flew open, and Francis mentally cursed himself for forgetting to deadbolt said entryway before beginning his hideaway period. He was literally trembling in fear, nearly screaming as the tsundere Brit slowly said, "_Fraaaancis_… I know you're _heeere_…~"

Arthur's emerald eyes slowly panned over the room, finally catching the merest glimpse of a shiny black loafer. He laughed loudly, spanning the gap in three quick strides and grabbing the ankle of one very unfortunate Francophone, who began to shriek in terror and claw at the carpet. "_NON, NON_!!!!"

Arthur paid his cries no heed, opting to simply hoist the blonde over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes. Francis would have admired the unexpected feat of strength had he not been on the receiving end and condemned to such a horrible fate.

Walking through the hallways with a frightening sense of purpose, the shorter blonde ignored his captor's screams completely. "Now be quiet, frog, it's time for breakfast." Francis' eyes went wide as dinner platters at the dreaded words.

Were it possible, they went wider still at the sight of his two sons literally chained (this man was _deranged_) to chairs at the kitchen table, Alfred struggling with all his might, Matthew just sniffling. "_Mathieu_, Alfred, are you alright? Has he fed you?" Alfred replied with a grimace, "Not yet. He was waiting for you." These words made Matthew cry even harder.

Plopping the French captive into a chair next to the others unceremoniously, Arthur chained him up as well, kissing him lightly afterwards. "And if you struggle," the Englishman whispered softly into his ear, "I'll feed them first."

His body went limp at this. The blonde internally cursed his French pride as he nodded while glancing at his terrified sons.

Arthur cracked a sinister smile, Francis' heart skipping a few beats as he did so. "Wonderful," he said, grabbing a large pot of some, er… Francis wasn't sure, actually. Whatever the sludge was, though, it bubbled menacingly even though it appeared to have the color and consistency of wet concrete.

Francis noted (with much terror) that Arthur struggled to get a ladle to actually enter the substance, finally managing to do so with a soft crack. Dear _God_.

"Now," said the shorter man, who seemed ten feet taller all of a sudden as he leered over a very horrified Francis, "Open wide…~"

Francis screamed.

And shot about three feet out of his bed, panting as he clutched his silky sheets so hard he swore the creases were permanent. As he glanced around frantically, heart pounding a mile a minute, it took the man a few moments to realize that it was a dream.

'_Calm down, Francis, you're safe. Just a dream, old boy. A dream_.' He took several ragged breaths as he reminded himself that Arthur loved him; he would never do such a thing as poison the family.

However, as Arthur called up that breakfast was ready, Francis wasn't so sure.

--

Oh poor Papa Francis. D;

Next chapter will be some rather *coughcough* interesting interactions between Mattie and Alfred. :D I know you guys love the pairing (judging by your reviews, who doesn't?), so I've planned some smexy time that bumps up the rating a bit (how much depends on my mood ;D). Fun fun.

Also, if you guys haven't read the best fanfiction in the world (no lie, it is seriously the best I have ever read) called Jones Paranormal Investigation Agency by Feux Follets, go read it. Now.

Review plz?

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	3. Midnight Delight

OH MY GOD. T_T I am sososo unbelievably sorry for the four-day hiatus, I was on computer restrictions for a day, then my laptop broke. I was actually crying when the technician came, I said, 'I HAVE REALLY IMPORTANT THINGS ON THIS AND A STORY I NEED TO POST DON'T LET ME DOWN NOW ;o;' And he just said, 'I'll do it!' Thank you, Kiernan.

Again, all the positive feedback is just making me so happy :D I'm really glad that everyone likes the stories. I'll keep doing my best!!~ Smex time now, gaiz. ;D There might be some canon storylines coming up where they're actually doing nation-ly things.

Ages:

Matthew: 19

Alfred: 20

Arthur and Francis: around 35

(Pretty much the same time frame, but I'll be doing a colonial story soon, if not next .)

Enjoy this~

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Midnight Delight

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Alfred Jones ran a hand through his coarse hair, sighing deeply. Did he dare to glance at the clock? He didn't even want to know what time it was as he lay exhausted on his Superman (shut _up_, he's a role model) sheets.

After a few more minutes of lying awake, his resolve shattered, and, for what seemed like the zillionth time, he glanced at the digital clock at his bedside, green numbers nearly blinding in the pitch black of his room.

1:45. Damn it.

Alfred thought about his dilemma for a moment. Pensively, he considered what the problem might be, as he never had difficulties with sleeping before.

Perhaps he was… stressed? No, he had nothing to worry about. Did he have to use the restroom? No, he had gone not half an hour earlier. Then… Was he hungry? The sleepless blonde thought for a moment.

Yes, that _must_ be it.

So, without further ado, he tossed the blankets back and climbed out of bed, ruffling his hair and sighing before lightly padding across the dark room, hitting his shin along the way. "Ow," he whispered.

Plodding gently down the stairs, the bleary insomniac tried his best to avoid slipping, finally reaching the living room without incident. Smiling widely at his ninja-like skills, he considered telling his friend Gilbert in the morning to see if he would finally be dubbed '_awesome_.'

He could feel the chilly hardwood floor even through his socks, and decided with a shiver it was best to move quickly. Shuffling swiftly to the kitchen, the blonde rifled through cabinets, stopping only when he heard footsteps behind him.

A soft, "Alfred?" rang through the kitchen, and said boy recognized the voice as his younger brother's. "Sorry, Matt, did I wake you up?" "Nah, I can't sleep." Alfred marveled once again at just how similar they were before blindly shuffling over to the source of the noise, hooking one arm around Matthew's waist.

The other twin gave a small squeak, and Alfred could practically feel him blushing as he pulled the Canadian in even closer.

Frowning at the other boy's lack of body heat, the blonde worriedly exclaimed, "Jesus, Mattie, you're _freezing_." "S-Sorry…"

The two spent a moment like that, just leaning against each other's chests, before Matthew said, "So are you hungry, Al?" Alfred nodded, resting his head on the top of his brother's with a little chuckle. As the other blonde tried to pull away, the taller of the two made his hand wrap around Matthew's waist even tighter, causing a little gasp.

"Don't y-you want me to get you something?" Alfred smiled at the inquiry, noticing vaguely how cute Matthew was when flustered. His vivid red cheeks, mussed hair, and most of all, his confused little pout. The expression caused a small line to form between his eyebrows.

"Alfred? Are you listening to me?" Before the tall blonde knew it, he was grabbing his brother's shoulders as their mouths crashed together.

He felt Matthew tense and snapped out of his momentary release, immediately letting go of his brother and stumbling back in shock. A silence filled the dark room as the younger of the two pressed his hand to his lips, quivering slightly. Panting, Alfred looked in horror at the petite Canadian, mind firmly gripped by the fear that his brother would reject him; call him a freak; _hate_ him, even.

Imagine his surprise when Matthew kissed him.

Alfred was frozen in shock as the smaller boy touched their lips together again, sensually snaking his arms around his twin's neck. Shaking himself out of his reverie, the older brother hesitantly kissed back, a bit fearful of being too forceful. Matthew groaned into his mouth, pressing their hips closer together.

Alfred panted, pinning Matthew to the wall as he plunged his tongue roughly into the Canadian's open mouth. In response, the blonde wrapped his legs around Alfred's waist, moaning softly.

The American's hands fumbled in uncharacteristic anxiety as he attempted to take off his brother's shirt, Matthew finally growling in impatience and ripping it off himself. The soft blue garment was carelessly tossed to the floor.

The brothers were blending so closely that they seemed nearly like one unit, similar faces and bodies meshing together as two hot tongues entwined. Blonde hair fell like a sheet over the same color as Alfred stumbled hastily to the kitchen island, the added burden of his twin's body weighing heavily upon him as he laid the delicate boy down.

Matthew truly was beautiful. The thought fluttered through Alfred's head, reinforced only by his perfect view of his brother's violet eyes, glimmering mysteriously in the dark. A few seconds passed between the two in quiet contemplation before the quieter twin, surprisingly enough decided to speak.

"_Frere_, enough goddamn _teasing_." Alfred mentally reeled, not only from the shock of his perfect counterpart swearing, but because of how… well, horny Matthew seemed. In thinking about it, he decisively knew he didn't mind one bit.

Alfred reached slowly, hesitantly, for the small Canadian's waistband. The warm fabric felt unusually incompliant in his hands as he struggled to move even the softest material. A mental block. _Terrific_.

His large hands trembled as he coughed sheepishly and released the pajamas, eyes widening in… was that fear?... of his usually sweet brother. Matthew had literally just snarled, white teeth bared dangerously. "Alfred, I _swear_, if you don't-"

Said boy shut his twin up with a deep kiss as he squeezed his eyes shut. He took in a deep breath through his nose, and moved his hand down slowly. Slowly, slowly, almost there…

And both blondes screamed bloody murder as the lights were turned on by a very horrified Brit.

The ringing silence after the shrieks almost made Alfred and Matthew wish their father would yell, or gape, or… _something_. Instead, the older man merely stood there in a stunned silence, eyes taking in the sight of the American perched over his younger brother, who was curiously shirtless and had a hand down his pants. Both brothers were beet red and shaking from embarrassment and sheer terror.

Arthur just looked blearily at the pair for a solid four minutes that stretched for days, finally just whispering, "Do I really want to know…?"

Alfred exhaled in relief with Matthew. Waving a hand dismissively, the smaller boy said, "_Non, papa_. Just couldn't sleep. And, er, well…" The father's thick eyebrows knitted together as he, too, blinked in the harsh light. Alfred was speechless for once, running his fingers on the back of his neck sheepishly.

Arthur sniffled as he rubbed his eyes. "Well then, boys… You and Francis are going to have a little chat tomorrow." The twins groaned loudly and managed, somehow, to get up and pull Matthew's shirt back on in a less-than-awkward fashion.

As Alfred passed his father, holding the petite Canadian he had ravaged softly in a bear hug, he said, "Hold on, Matt." The American reached over and opened the tall white refrigerator with one hand, using the other to hold Matthew. The appendage made a reappearance several seconds later with a can of whipped cream.

Arthur looked at his older son in bewilderment. Before he could even ask, the boy was kissing his twin again, breaking the sensual contact with a devious grin and brandishing the white can with a _whole lot_ of intent.

"Time for a midnight snack… Right, Mattie?"

Green eyes fluttering shut, the Briton hit the ground with a definite thud. His sons couldn't have been less concerned.

--

FFF ENDING FAILS AT LIFE T_T And again, I must apologize for the wait. Expect daily or every other daily updates. :D

This chapter was born of one night of hard, cram-this-damn-story-in labor, consisting of the following:

Tears (lots)

Girl Scout Cookies

Anberlin/Jack's Mannequin songs on repeat

Fuzzy slippers

My cousin semi-betaing

And exhaustion.

Writer's life points are now at zero.

IT MAKES ME FEEL LUFFED :3

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